psych
by iciiing
Summary: unfortunately for them, staying in one place is never an option. —au, multichapter. {4: kaito, mizael. it's the interlude before the storm. sort of.}
1. p

**a/n1:** the hell this wasn't even supposed to be multichapter i've written _oneshots_ that are longer than this what  
**a/n2:** dedicated to everyone who hasn't lost hope in the archive yet. xoxo stay strong my friends  
**warnings:** swears, complete au blast, nanowrimo leftovers incoming  
**disclaimer:** i'm scared to own this show, man. check the tumblr tags sometime.

* * *

**edit#1:** added some stuff, took out some stuff, fixed some stuff. (i-i'm not scared of anons or anything...)

* * *

.**P**SYCH.

* * *

_Saturday_

* * *

JFK :: **3.02**PM

* * *

"This," mutters Anna as she stares out at the enormous crowd around the gate, "is ridiculous."

The hum of a hundred different conversations swells around her. Most of them are in English: "—late departure, ohmygod I thought we wouldn't make it—" "—if you're going, two hot chocolates and a blueberry muffin—" "—you think we have time to stop at the gift shop?" She forces herself to stop listening for Japanese (it's a bad habit she's picked up somewhere) and taps at her Galaxy instead, noting as she does so that her plane doesn't board for another thirty minutes. It's cold. She toys briefly with the idea of getting a coffee from the Starbucks on the second floor, but all thoughts of caramel macchiato fly out of her mind when she feels the insistent tug at her skirt.

Anna whips around with a deadly glare and an even deadlier fist ready for the sleaze who's touching her, only to come face to face with a kid who can't be more than five or six. He's wearing a coat that's slightly too big for him and a dark scowl. His medium length blond hair looks about as well maintained as hers—possibly better, considering she hasn't washed her magenta locks in a day and a half.

"You're definitely not the security guard," he mutters under his breath.

It takes a minute for Anna to recognize the language. Her Japanese is rusty. "What…uh…what are you talking about?"

"Before we came here, Vec said to look for security if you got lost," answers the boy haughtily, already beginning to walk away. "But you're not the guard from earlier."

"Whoa." The airport scene from 'Taken' springs into Anna's mind courtesy of her unintentional late-night movie marathon yesterday, and she quickly snags the back of his jacket. "You won't find security like that—do you not _see _this crowd? And who's 'Vec'?"

The kid scoffs. "Unhand me, woman! Tachyon will eat you!"

Tachyon, as it turns out, is a small, colorful, and extremely battered stuffed dragon.

Anna sighs inwardly and flicks another glance at the entrance to the gate. Boarding's in twenty minutes now, but she'd rather not be the indirect cause of another face on the side of a milk carton.

"Come on, then," she decides, throwing caution to the wind as she reaches for the kid's hand. He stares at it as though it's a foreign object.

_Fine. Be that way._ Anna rolls her eyes before kneeling down and picking him up instead.

"Get—_off_ me!" The kid (really, she needs to learn his name) squirms in her arms, tugging painfully at her bright bangs.

"Ay, don't touch the hair!" Anna accidentally switches to English, and several people turn to look at her. Blushing violently, she mutters, "It's an _airport._ Don't act like you people have never heard weirder things."

The kid redoubles his efforts to escape her arms. "I just saw Vec! Let me _down!_"

Frustrated, Anna tosses her free arm into the air. "What the_ hell_ is a Vec?"

"That would be me," answers a smooth voice from behind her. "Also, it's Vector."

Freezing in her tracks, Anna puts the blond kid down and turns around, locking eyes with the stranger. He's tall, taller than her, and he sports an outfit comprised mostly of black and leather. A smirk plays around the corners of his mouth as he adds, "If swearing in Japanese is the extent of your command of language, then you'd be well advised to stay away from children."

Without hesitation, Anna fires of a creatively obscene (yet expletive-free) insult about his ginger hairdo. Vector's eyes widen slightly, and the kid grins conspiratorially.

"Can it, _pipsqueak_," says Vector sharply, effectively shutting the younger one down before he can say anything.

"It's_ Mizael!"_ The kid—Mizael—stomps a foot before tossing his beloved dragon at the carrot-top's face. It misses by a mile, teetering precariously atop the metal railing before falling directly into one of the planters hanging below them.

"Wow. Good aim," remarks Vector dispassionately, shading his eyes with a hand and idly looking down.

"Aren't you a fantastic sibling," deadpans Anna, glancing down at the planter. It's one of those weird ones that perches precariously between floors, a pathetic attempt at some type of greenery within a completely man-made construct, but it's still close enough that she can reach it if she makes a serious attempt.

_I can totally make this jump._

Without a second thought, Anna abruptly launches herself over the banister. She catches it with an elbow, silently thanking every god she can name off the top of her head for the shorts under her skirt. Kicking her feet experimentally, she lowers herself until her hands are barely gripping the metal. The tip of her right combat boot touches Tachyon, and she carefully maneuvers the stuffed toy out of the tangle of plants with said boot before stretching out an arm to grab it.

It's a terrible idea. Her remaining hand loses its grip on the metal the instant she snags Tachyon's wing, and a surge of panic overwhelms her as she feels herself topple backwards.

And then...she's not falling, somehow.

Looking up, Anna notices that the gloved hand keeping her steady as she regains her footing on the balcony is attached to a very nice leather coat, which belongs to…Vector. _Of course. How disgustingly cliché._

Clambering ungracefully back up the side of the railing, the young woman plasters the crowd that's gathered with assurances that she's fine and hands the stuffed dragon back to a shellshocked Mizael, making it a point to evade the crimson eyes of her unlikely rescuer.

"You're heavy." Vector massages his wrist.

Anna makes a rude gesture at him, all thoughts of thankfulness forgotten.

Above them, the intercom crackles sharply, announcing the final boarding call for a plane arriving at SUF with a layover at FCO. Vector's eyes flash in recognition, and he scoops up Mizael without another word and takes off. Anna doesn't even have time to contemplate the implications of being stuck on a flight with the asshole who's made her acquaintance before she's tearing after them, digging her boarding pass out of her nuisance of a carry-on as she does so.

They arrive in the nick of time, and the stewardess casts a disapproving look at the bedraggled trio as she scans their boarding passes. Mizael notices and says something to her that's probably obnoxious; Anna doesn't stop to listen to the resulting altercation as she dashes through the gate.

* * *

For a split second, translucent pink energy flickers to life around her boots.


	2. s

**a/n1:** how do finals /rolls off a cliff/  
**a/n2:** review, flame, idc just please tell me how i'm doing (if you're still reading LOL)  
**warnings:** i fucking swear all the fucking time. fuck.  
**disclaimer: **[BREATHES LOUDLY] _ZEXAL IS ENDING. OBVIOUSLY I DON'T OWN._

* * *

.P**S**YCH.

* * *

_Sunday_

* * *

Coliseum Ruins :: **6.14**AM

* * *

"Yo, Rio! Get down!"

Rio flattens herself to the ground a second before a fireball roars over her head. Quickly, she shoots twin spears of ice at the Shadow she's been evading, sending it fizzling into smoky sparks, and joins the thrower of the lethal orange flame behind one of the very large (and very fallen) support beams littering the Coliseum.

"Thanks, IV. Got a bit tied up back there."

"Join the club." The faintest bit of humor flickers in the crimson eyes of her battle partner; his purple tattoo whirs slightly as he sends a blast of cursed fire in the direction of a malignant shadow. "How long have we been at this again?"

"Only about fifteen minutes or so," answers Rio, slumping against the ruined pillar and sucking in oxygen. "Feels like longer, though. Shadows take ages to get rid of."

"Mm." IV nods once in agreement and waits for her to catch her breath.

Silence reigns for a bit. Across the field, Haruto and Neo Galaxy-Eyes are cleaning up as well; the gray-silver dragon flickers in and out of the visible spectrum as it razes an already-destroyed pedestal with an electrifying beam of photon energy. A bright purple blast yields the destruction of another pool of Shadows further to her left; Droite is going to town with her butterfly bombs—small Psych-borne missiles that are much deadlier than they sound.

"It's too fucking early to be alive," complains IV, getting to his feet. "I hate mop-up duty. All _Mihael_ has to do today is hack into Heartland's mainframe and make sure we get invitations to some stupid _party_, so of course _he_ can sleep in…"

"Yeah, but the Shadows are weakest at dawn." Rio hums the opening bars of "Be A Man" under her breath to shut him up and stands up, giving the Shadow that's trying to sneak up on them a fistful of ice. It hisses in pain and drops to the ground, firing off a pulse of shadows on its way down. She dodges easily, not bothering to stop it from targeting her partner. One blast of fire later, it's gone in a shower of sparks and burn-smoke, and IV's yelling at her.

"That's real cold, Rio!"

"For your sake, I truly hope that wasn't a pun."

IV goes pale. Rio laughs and steps carefully around a half-buried set of steps, readying daggers of ice at her fingertips for the next unfortunate Shadow to cross her path.

"Let's hurry up and get this done. Astral says this hotel's got a buffet."

* * *

Benet Hotel :: **9:31**AM

* * *

"You're not going." Her brother's standing at the door to their shared hotel suite when she gets back from the continental breakfast buffet, arms loaded with free food.

"That murderous expression doesn't really work for you," replies Rio cheerfully, breezing past him and dumping her loot onto the nightstand. "You look like someone just broke your nightlight," she adds as she falls backwards onto one of the beds.

"I'm serious, Rio." Ryoga sighs heavily, pointedly ignoring the jab as he joins her on the edge of the bed.

"Is this about the dress?" Rio sits up so she can look him in the eyes and subsequently roll her matching ones in his face. "Because for real, if you're going to go all overprotective brother on me, stop. I'm nineteen and I can probably ice any Shadow in this city to within an inch of its life."

"No, it's not about the dress!" Ryoga snaps.

Rio gives him a deadpan look as she starts on a leftover chocolate-chip waffle, motioning to the backless number hanging on the doorknob of their shared closet. Although they've been in Spartan City for a week and a half, neither sibling has bothered to unpack properly; Ryoga's messier-than-usual suitcase stands as a remnant of last week's clotheswashing spree, and Rio's mostly empty carry-on is still on display at the foot of her bed. "You sure about that?"

"Fine, it's a little bit about the dress," amends Ryoga, grudgingly accepting the bagel she offers him. "When did you find time to go shopping, anyway? I thought you and IV were stuck on field duty all week."

Rio definitely doesn't miss the way her brother practically spits her partner's nickname into the space between them. Her snickering at his implied suggestion causes a piece of waffle to go in the wrong direction; as a result, her sarcastic "Don't make me laugh" comes out in a rather strangled voice.

"Apparently it's too late," remarks her twin dryly, whacking his sister on the back until she coughs up the chocolate-chip confection. (Rio wipes her mouth and promptly resumes laughing at him.) "Anyway, as much as I'd like to have something else to kick his ass for, it's not about IV either. It's about the fact that sooner or later, your cover is going to get blown. You've messed with like half of the Shadow bosses in person—"

"Got some pretty big leads while I was at it, too—"

"Which is exactly why we're still here, I'm sure," mutters Ryoga under his breath.

"There's _five other people_ on this mission, including you, and you're blaming Heartland's unwillingness to divulge the reason behind the sudden insurgence of Shadows on _me?_" Rio looks around for something to throw.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Ryoga dodges the shark plush she lobs at him, a pained expression making its way across his face. "Look, all I'm saying is that Heartland's gang has probably got major red flags on you by now, okay? Give it a rest for now."

"It's totally about the dress." Exasperated, Rio pokes a straw into a tropical punch Roarin' Waters and drains it in two gulps. "I'll stay far away from the punch if it makes you happy," she adds with a scoff, aiming the empty pouch at the trashcan in the corner. It misses by a mile.

"Neither of us is legal enough to drink, you know." Ryoga walks over, picks up the piece of trash, and takes the shot from where she's sitting. He doesn't miss.

"…Showoff."

"You said it, not me." Ryoga shrugs and grabs the other juice pouch, standing up to leave. "Later, sis. Be careful."

"Yeah, whatever." Rio tosses her brother a cup of peach yogurt and a spoon.

Her twin stares at her oddly. "What's this for?"

Sighing dramatically, Rio picks up a piece of toast and starts buttering it. "Tell Yuma to start eating breakfast."


	3. y

**a/n1:** you should know that i wrote most of this while half asleep and the other bits while watching hoshi no kaabii  
**a/n2:** holy shit this has spiraled way out of control why is this chapter large  
**warnings:** swears, i guess  
**disclaimer:** _ZEEEEEEEEXXXXXXXAL IS EEEEEEENDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING_ [WAILS]

* * *

.PS**Y**CH.

* * *

_Tuesday _

* * *

Sparta Tower :: **9.52**PM

* * *

Cathy ties the final bow on her dark blue dress and steps back from the mirror, double-checking to make sure the multitude of silver ribbons looks acceptable. They all appear to be in the right places, and she nods appreciatively at her reflection as she sweeps her steel-colored hair back into a high ponytail. Tonight's gathering is important to the Numbers Club, and she needs to be impressive.

"You look great, Cathy," says a voice from behind her.

Instead of screaming, Cathy drops the twin bells she was going to tie her hair with and powers up her blade Psych. This time she senses a broadsword, which she doesn't like very much because it's huge, but it'll do in a pinch. Like now. _Backwards move to give yourself space, one-two-three—_

And then Takashi walks into the room, sporting a slightly sheepish grin and a suit with a tie to match her dress, and she heaves a sigh of relief.

"_Geez,_ Takashi! Don't do that to me!"

"I meant what I said before, Cat." Her friend retrieves the dropped hair fastener from the floor and snags a comb from the dresser, sweeping it neatly into the same ponytail she was previously attempting. "You're gonna turn heads."

"We both will." Cathy's wide grin glints dangerously in the dim lighting. Although Heartland has warned them tonight is strictly business, it's been way too long since her last fight. "By the time this is over, they won't even _exist_ anymore."

"You're not worried about the Numeron Code appearing?" Takashi returns Cathy's hair accessory to its shelf and runs a hand through his own cyan tangles. "On second thought, I might need that comb..."

Cathy laughs. "Go ahead and use it. But no, I'm not worried," she adds with a shrug. "We've got the support of the Numbers. What's there to be afraid of?"

Takashi winces as the comb snags a particularly tangled bit of hair. "It doesn't hurt to be careful."

"That's true, but whose Psych would it be?" Cathy runs a hand over the tablet in the middle of the room. It springs to life at her touch, scattering translucent blue cards emblazoned with photos across the small space. "Most of the team stationed here is element Psychs. With the exception of that Yuma guy, who doesn't even _have _one…"

"Man, I wish _my_ holosystem cooperated with me like that," grumbles Takashi good-naturedly. He finishes with the comb and sets it back, examining a card near the door. "Hm. What's this girl's Psych? You've got zero data for her…"

"That's impossible." Frowning slightly, Cathy pads over to join him, her feet sinking silently into the plush carpet. "My system's perfect. It monitors every change in our current...vicinity..." She trails off, staring at the card Takashi is poking experimentally.

The newcomer's hologram is pink. Lots and lots of pink. Her hair is pink, her skirt is pink, her shorts are pink, her backpack is pink. Her Psych is probably pink too, but Cathy wouldn't know because there's literally _nothing _on her. No birthday, no known residence, no family, no affiliation, and most importantly, no Psych. There's only a name.

_It's an irregularity. Nothing more._

"Computer," says Cathy coolly, attempting to shove down her rising panic as she stalks away from the offending holocard. "Get me everything you can find on Anna Kozuki."

"Cat, she's not with them." Takashi follows her, worry reflected in his eyes. "There's no need to go after a new Psych, especially if he or she isn't here to fight."

"This isn't an accident. She's here because someone _invited_ her." The glare Cathy directs at her friend could probably slice through sheer iron. "I'm _not_ letting zeXal recruit another ally."

"Understood." Takashi sighs and turns to leave the room. "I'll get Kaito and Gauche on it tomorrow. Just…"

"_What."_ The girl swipes viciously at the lightshow in front of her, causing her bracelet to jingle merrily; one final line of search code flickers into existence six inches above her ponytail before the program relocates itself to the surface of her tablet.

"…Be careful, Cathy. Don't go starting fights you can't win."

The room's warm, but Cathy can't stop shivering. Takashi's expression haunts her even after the door clicks gently shut.

* * *

_Wednesday_

* * *

ColorBottle Boutique :: **11.24**AM

* * *

"Sis, you can't be serious."

"Sure I am! I'm not gonna let you go off to a party totally underdressed—oops." Wincing, Kotori catches sight of the bright yellow appendage she's just handed off to her pink-haired sibling. "What am I even doing? That's totally going to clash with your hair…"

"This coming from the one sporting bright green dye." Anna's lips twitch into a smirk.

Kotori huffs. "_Fine._ No more quips about hair, I promise. Now hold this for a sec."

Five minutes later, Anna's in the fitting room with Kotori standing guard. "I hope you know I _really_ don't want to do this. It's possible to be formal without wearing one of these abominations."

"And what, pray tell, were you planning to attend a _Heartland _party wearing?" says the twenty-year-old acidly. "Jeans and a fancy shirt?"

"Jeans and my _Pokémon _shirt, for your information," is the snarky reply from behind the door. Kotori rolls her eyes.

"And to think, I thought my baby sister had acquired some actual fashion sense when I saw her come off that plane in a pretty pink skirt…"

"I hadn't washed clothes in a week, 'Tori." Anna's tone is dry. "It was either that or an XL tee with a belt around it."

Instead of dignifying that with a response, the older female tosses the last of the dresses over the top of the door. There's an "Ow!" from Anna as it makes contact.

"Serves you right." Kotori folds her arms and fixes the door with a self-satisfied expression.

"You know, if we weren't related, I wouldn't be doing this," replies her companion dully. There's the sound of rustling, and suddenly the door slams open. "I still have jetlag. Hope you're happy."

"Oh…my…god." Kotori stares at her younger sister in shock. The dress molds to Anna like water. The lace sleeves come to just below her wrists, and the folds around her knees shimmer in alternate shades of mauve and deep pink as she steps out of the doorway. Instead of a slightly scruffy almost-adult, she's a reluctant runway model.

"What?" Noticing the other girl's gaze on her, Anna is instantly suspicious. "See, I knew this wasn't a good idea—"

"I'm a genius!" yells Kotori happily, causing several shoppers to give them both a strange look.

"'Tori!" hisses Anna under her breath. "This is a high-end place! You're gonna get us booted onto the street!"

"I've got a membership here, and I'm about to drop some serious M-O-N-E-Y on these dresses." Kotori scoffs at her sister's ignorance. "As long as you're paying, the world's your oyster. Now go get changed so we can find some shoes."

"_Shoes?"_ wails Anna despairingly as she trudges back into the dressing room. "I'd rather be back on that plane with Vector!"

"Vector?" Kotori ceases making tracks for the door, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Who's Vector?"

"…Oh, shit." Anna shoves the mauve dress at her sister and makes a run for it.

Serenely, Kotori contemplates a cute headband from the selection at the side before heading towards the register, placing her own teal dress atop the one her sister's just abandoned as she does so. She'll find a ribbon to match Anna's dress later; the party doesn't start for at least another eight hours and her scrap box is just _begging _to be sorted through…

The saleslady on the other side of the counter coughs awkwardly as Kotori hands over her card, watching Anna bolt through the doorway. "Erm…your friend…"

"My sister's directionally challenged," pipes up the green-haired young woman by way of explanation. "It's only a matter of time before she gets lost in the city and texts me in a panic, and then I get to find her and wrangle information about this _"Vector"_ out of her over a large caramel macchiato."

"…Ah." Wisely, the lady refrains from commenting; it's probably more information than she ever wanted to know. Kotori's found that being blunt with people is the best way to evade further questioning. It works this time, too; she's out of the boutique with nothing further than a "Have a nice day" aimed in her direction.

"Mm, I guess I'll find some shoes on my own," muses the older girl aloud as she strolls down the crowded path. The sun's rays glint off the bay in the distance; the beach is probably twice as crowded as the main street even though it's the middle of fall. She whips out her sunglasses in an attempt to stave off the blinding sunlight and returns her attention to finding a good sale.

A passing seagull lands in her path and tilts its head at her. Irked, Kotori yells at it.

"This is so _frustrating! _If only the invites had come _yesterday_ instead of this morning, I would've had time to look around for something good…"

The bird squawks angrily at her before flying away.

"I just got ignored by a _seagull."_ Kotori sinks theatrically to the ground, flipping off the side of her brain that's telling her it's childish to sulk.

* * *

The blond man sitting on the bench across the way closes his book and briefly touches his left ear.

* * *

"Location registered: Mizuki, Kotori. Target is talking to a seagull about matters of clothing. It appears that she is pressed for time to find suitable party attire."

"…Did you even hear that last sentence of yours?"

"I am well aware of how ridiculous it sounds, thank you."

"Yeesh, Kaito. You're so_ serious_ with this. Lighten up, dude! Walk the city! Go shopping or something!"

"_Goodbye,_ Gauche. Contact me again when you have registered Anna Kozuki's location."

* * *

Main Street :: **6.37**PM

* * *

_This city is toxic,_ thinks Vector as he stands in line for gelato.

It's bright, it's loud, and there's too many people. Mizael hates it too; he took two steps out of the hotel and proclaimed that Tachyon thought it was awful.

Vector has no idea why Mizael still carries around the battered dragon toy. He's asked before, in a slightly mocking way, why a seven-year-old would need a stuffed toy to sleep at night. Mizael gave him a look of disgust and explained that Tachyon protected him, and don't you have something to protect you too? And Vector stood there and said nothing as Mizael used Tachyon as a pillow, because _yeah _he's got something to protect him, it's called a Psych and it feeds on people's fear and this blond kid hit the nail on the head without even trying.

(And besides, Vector _understands_ lonely and abandoned. More than he would like to.)

Mizael's giving all the people passing by dark looks, and although Vector would like nothing more than to join him, he elbows his charge instead.

"Yo, quit it. Someone's gonna pull a gun on you or something."

"Whatever." Mizael ignores him, but he does stop looking at people as though he's going to murder them in their sleep.

Vector sighs and turns back to the sign on the front of the cart. "You wanted this stuff, right? Pick something. It's gonna be small 'cause we're low on funds."

"Rob a bank," suggests Mizael acidly. "Lemon," he adds as an afterthought. "And strawberry for Tachyon."

"Oh, _hell_ no." Vector bristles as the line moves up. "I am not buying ice cream for a fucking _stuffed toy."_

"Mom, what does 'fucking' mean?" asks the messy-haired child in front of them. His mother turns red and flees the line with her son, giving Vector a sharp glare as she does so.

Vector snickers. Mizael looks at him scornfully.

"You're despicable."

"I'm surprised you can pronounce that." Vector smirks and steps up to the counter. "One mango and one lemon gelato. And a snack size strawberry."

"_Snack size?!"_ screeches Mizael indignantly. "You're getting Tachyon _snack size_?"

"Your _dragon_ better be grateful he's getting any at all," says Vector acerbically, tossing a fistful of bills onto the counter. "Let's go. There's a table over there."

The two haul their gelatos over to the table and sit down. Vector digs into his ice cream hesitantly at first, then with more gusto as he realizes it actually tastes halfway decent. Mizael notices and informs him that he should start trusting Tachyon's judgment on food more often.

"…You conned me into getting you ice cream so I could waste money on your stuffed animal," says Vector evenly as he scoops out the last of the mango-flavored confection. "At this rate, I'm not surprised anymore."

Mizael's ignoring him again, this time in favor of pointing out a large cluster of lights coming from the ever-present Sparta Tower. "Tachyon says there's a party going on over there."

"If you needed Tachyon to tell you that, you're in some serious trouble." Vector tosses his ice cream cup off the bridge and heads in the direction of the lights, not bothering to wait for Mizael. He stops a little ways from the place, examining the crowd queued near the door. They're all dressed to the nines, many clutching cream-colored invitations, and the hum of excitement is palpable.

"Vec." The kid is next to him again; in some dark corner of Vector's mind, he wonders how anyone can move that fast. "Isn't that girl the one from the airport?"

"Where—" The question wilts and dies as Vector catches sight of airport girl, turning heads in a maroon dress. She floats up to the doorway looking decidedly uncomfortable and saying something to the green-haired woman next to her.

"Sis, I don't think…"

"Relax, Anna, Mr. Heartland _himself _hosts this thing! Most people would _kill _for the chance…" The rest of her sister's sentence is lost to the noise of the crowd as they join the ranks of people swarming the door; the two present their invitations to the bouncer and are waved in without further ado.

_Anna. So that's her name, huh…?_

Mizael elbows Vector in the side, effectively snapping him out of it. "So, are we sneaking in or are we sneaking in?"

"Oh, we're _definitely_ sneaking in," answers Vector, grinning darkly.

* * *

Behind him, the lights on the block flicker out one by one.


	4. c

**a/n1:** SUPER DUPER HUGE THANK YOU to piper for beta-ing this chapter and kicking my butt into gear and superfab ideas at 1am and KAIKOTO and general amazingness! your'e such a gem ahhhhhh  
**a/n2:** "last updated december 16" ahaha...ha...what  
**warnings:** #swears  
**disclaimer: **please do not watch zexal you will become a broken soul

* * *

.PSY**C**H.

* * *

_Wednesday_

* * *

Sparta Tower Floor :: **7.24**PM_  
_

* * *

Kaito dislikes parties immensely.

It's mostly the crowd. There are people everywhere—milling around the row of tables loaded with impossibly small sandwiches and delicate desserts, conducting polite and muted conversation at the fringes of the ballroom, and waltzing elegantly across the marble tiles of the dance floor—and although this particular event is a far cry from any party he has been dragged to before, it still bothers him a great deal.

"You look like you're at a funeral." Gauche materializes next to him with a plateful of food, and Kaito notes with dismay that the diminutive sandwiches are even tinier up close.

"My dearly departed brain cells," responds Kaito dully.

"Have a sandwich." Gauche proffers the plate, and Kaito takes three before directing his gaze to the ever-expanding crowd. Inwardly, he marvels at Kotori Mizuki's inherent ability to get lost in a crowd-it's been ten minutes and she is twirling in and out of view, sometimes with a dance partner and sometimes without and overall making his job ten times harder than it has to be.

Next to him, Gauche inhales the remnants of his food and drops the plate into the nearest trash can. "Heartland really went all out on this thing, didn't he? I mean, he even hired that famous piano guy for the music."

"The 'famous piano guy' is about to be outed for the DJ table." Kaito motions towards the door, where the pianist's manager (an imposing purple-haired woman sporting an odd headdress) and two security guards are arguing with someone dragging a suitcase. Bits of the conversation float into the alcove where the two have taken up residence.

"Like I said, it can't be helped. We arrived here first, and if what I'm hearing from the both of you is any indication, we were booked first. Either find a way to cooperate with the current music or pack your things and leave."

"_Pack our things?_ Lady, are you ser-"

"I hope he realizes that calling Fuuya Okudaira's manager 'lady' is not going to earn him any brownie points," Gauche comments as the argument increases in volume.

"Don't you have a job to be doing?" Irritated, Kaito returns to his mission (which is not actually comprised of leaning against a wall and looking cool, contrary to what Haruto told him earlier that night) and realizes belatedly that Kotori's teal dress has slipped his vision for the umpteenth time tonight.

"Anna hasn't budged from the macarons since she arrived here," replies Gauche offhandedly. "And besides, I want to see if this DJ actually makes it past the door. This is a great spot for a potted plant, by the way."

"You talk entirely too much." Kaito is back to watching for any hint of Kotori in the crowd; the pianist has decided to take a break, and everyone has returned to milling around and conversing about the weather and the food.

"How do you even discuss the food here?" Kaito turns to Gauche, who is still invested in the rising tensions at the door. Another security guard has been unwittingly lured into the fray, so now there are three men in stiff black suits watching bemusedly as the DJ and the manager duke it out over a double booking. "The words these people are using to describe the cake are bigger than the actual slices themselves."

"Hey, did you know the DJ has a kid with him? Who brings a kid to their job?"

"I did, apparently," mutters Kaito underneath his breath.

"He also has orange hair!"

"So do you, genius." Kaito barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm headed for punch. Enjoy your soap opera."

* * *

As it turns out, the punch is now a violent shade of purple instead of the pastel pink color it was upon arrival, so Kaito settles for a paper plate full of tomato bruschetta. He's headed to the desserts in a vain attempt to find something bigger than a walnut when he hears his thought process echoed aloud by someone standing near the hors d'oeuvres.

"Why is all the food so damn _small?_"

Kaito freezes in his tracks and turns around slowly. The familiar flash of teal that's been hovering at the corners of his vision all night is pouting at the fancy sandwiches on even fancier napkins and generally looking very put out as she continues, "Like, okay. I could understand if it was filet mignon or something, but really? Tiny sandwiches? These things are smaller than two bite brownies!"

Kaito coughs to hide the laugh that's threatening to escape him, more than a bit amused at the fact that there is someone here who agrees with him about the pathetically tiny food items. Intrigued, he hovers near the cheesecake bites and watches as she takes two paper plates and proceeds to heap five of everything onto them, scooping up an extra tomato bruschetta and popping it neatly into her mouth as she does so. Kaito's mildly surprised because the bruschetta has been one of the most neglected food items tonight (despite the fact that they're bigger than the sandwiches) and he's holding about twelve of them right now and maybe it would be a good idea to move out of her way before he gets noticed-

"Um, excuse me…"

It takes Kaito no less than ten seconds to realize that the chartreuse-haired young lady is indeed speaking to him and not some invisible entity hovering near his shoulder, a matter not helped by the fact that she is undeniably pretty up close. Quickly, he swallows the last of the bread and responds with a very eloquent "Uh."

"I was wondering if you'd tried the cheesecake yet?" Kotori smiles politely at him (and subsequently renders him that much more incapable of forming coherent sentences) before continuing, "I'm not sure whether it's good and I don't want to waste space on five of them."

"The cheesecake is palatable at best, but don't bother with the sandwiches." Well, at least his mouth had something intelligent to say before his brain caught up with it.

"I made my mistakes," says Kotori dryly.

Kaito smirks a bit. "And by 'mistakes' you mean 'I took a large amount and realized they were terrible'."

"Terribly undersized as well," adds Kotori, reaching for one of the mini cheesecakes. "Insult to injury. I think I'll take two of these, just in case."

"Just in case?" repeats Kaito, staring pointedly at the twin plates she is balancing.

"This coming from someone who's about to eat like fifteen pieces of bread." Kotori laughs, motioning to Kaito's platter with an elbow. "That's a _staggering _amount of carbs."

"This bruschetta is too small for a _calorie count._" Kaito gives the entire food table a scathing look. "In fact, this whole setup doesn't even deserve the title of appetizer buffet."

"Tell me about it." Kotori mimics his dark expression, except on her it's actually kind of adorable and Kaito is thoroughly annoyed with himself for noticing.

The silence that falls between them is quickly filled by the steady plink of the piano, now backed by a few sounds that Kaito is fairly certain are incapable of being produced by any type of percussion instrument. "I guess the DJ got in somehow, huh…"

"There was a DJ?" Kotori stands on tiptoe in an attempt to see, but shrugs and gives up halfway. "Ah, maybe the pianist got tired of being all alone up in front. Let's hurry up and eat so we can dance!"

Kaito blinks once. Twice. "I don't dance."

"Everyone dances," says Kotori decisively. "Now eat your fifteen small breads before the song's over…umm…"

"Kaito. Kaito Tenjo." Kaito winces as his actual name rolls off his tongue rather than the alias he is assuming for the night. There went the notion that his mouth had intelligent things to say.

"Eat your fifteen small breads, Kaito." Kotori grins at him as she starts in on her first plate of small foods, and Kaito finds himself incapable of looking away.

_This...may be a problem._

* * *

Sparta Tower Floor :: **8.02**PM

* * *

_I hate this place._

Mizael keeps a tight grip on the back of Vector's jacket as they make their way through the crowd, wincing slightly at the increased hum of voices in his mind. He's still not good enough to tell actual thoughts, yet, but the dizzying whirl of other people's emotions is enough to make his head pound and his insides twist uncomfortably.

Sensing his discomfort, Tachyon stirs. _Would you like me to eat them?_

_Umm… _Mizael considers Tachyon's proposal before remembering. _Wait, no, you can't. Vec said to stay inconspicuous._

_...I see_. Tachyon's presence recedes from his mind, taking most of the headache with it, and Mizael thinks _thank you_ in the dragon's direction before running straight into Vector's back.

"Oi, watch it!" Vector glares down at him.

Mizael glares right back. "_You_ watch it. You were the one who stopped."

The crowd sweeps the mismatched pair all the way to the carpeted stairwell at the front of the ballroom, and Vector heads straight for the top with Mizael and his mysterious black suitcase in tow. Several people stop dancing and give him confused looks as he and the pianist exchange words (the lie about the double booking is still working) and soon there is a makeshift turntable being assembled near the grand piano.

Mizael would like to know more than anything where Vector acquired the skills and the equipment to pose as a DJ in the space of ten minutes, but he's hungry and so is Tachyon and the gelato they ate was almost a whole two hours ago.

"I'm going to turn this into a real party," Vector tells him, looping a huge pair of headphones around his jacket collar. "Don't get squished."

"Okay. Don't blow anything up." Mizael sticks out his tongue at Vector and takes the stairs two at a time, his beat-up Converses skidding down the red carpet at the foot of the obnoxiously high construct. The floor has become twice as packed than it was on arrival, and his small stature is his sole protection from getting smushed between overenthusiastically dancing couples. He finally manages to extricate himself from the sardine tin also known as center stage and freezes as he catches sight of the buffet.

* * *

Sadly, Mizael has gotten very used to surviving on street cart meals and rejected diner fare. Sometimes Vector will manage to finagle a job and they'll have actual food and somewhere to sleep that's not a tree, but it never lasts long because people eventually notice that they don't technically exist and there are some things that neither of them can lie their way out of. He doesn't remember the last time he's seen a full table of cuisine, much less an entire wall dedicated to it, so he stops and stares and almost gets knocked over by someone who probably drank a little too much of the bright blue punch. (According to Tachyon, it was purple when they arrived.)

Flattening himself against the table to avoid further mishaps, Mizael retrieves a plate and realizes something else about the food.

"Tachyon! Tachyon, look! Isn't it great? Everything here is you-sized!"

Excitedly, Mizael extricates Tachyon from the pocket of his hoodie and holds it up to eye level with the table. The dragon's exhilaration filters clearly through their mental bond, and Mizael grins in anticipation as he picks up a second plate and starts picking up two of everything. The sandwiches are perfectly bite-sized and the garlic bread tomato thing is bigger but still small enough that Tachyon won't choke, and, and they even have chicken fingers which is both of their favorite foods, and Mizael is beginning to think that maybe parties are actually great and they should sneak into more of them before Tachyon reminds him gently, _hey, maybe you should slow down a bit and save something for a pinch. _So Mizael uses a napkin from the stack to fold two more sandwiches and a handful of pretzel crackers into his pocket, and then he picks up both plates and ducks under the tablecloth after checking to make sure no one is looking in their direction. They have only just gotten comfortable on the (astonishingly clean) floor underneath the punch table when a pair of shoes stops right next to them and whispers, "Can I join you guys?"

_You guys?_ says the dragon suspiciously, eyes narrowing as the sentence registers.

Carefully, Mizael lifts a corner of the tablecloth in an attempt to investigate the owner of said pair of shoes. They're wearing a dress the same color as the punch used to be, but he can't really tell much besides that because it would expose the duo's precarious position underneath a table at a party they weren't invited to. Fortunately, Tachyon can see really far; the dragon transmits a mental image of a slightly short young lady with magenta hair, a loose ponytail, and a weird pin near the top of her dress.

_...Mizael, I think this is the girl from the airport, _says Tachyon suddenly. _Tell her to sneak around by the punch bowl. No one is observing from that direction._

Mizael sighs theatrically before whispering back, "Tachyon says to sneak behind here."

Not a minute later, they are joined under the table by the aforementioned young lady, who's carrying a plate and looking very much like she would rather be anywhere but here. She explains this to Mizael through a mouthful of raspberry torte.

"Your table manners are deplorable," Mizael informs her after finishing the garlic bread thing. It's surprisingly good for something with tomatoes on top of it. "Also, thank you for saving Tachyon the other day."

"You're Mizael, right? I'm Anna." Anna swallows a macaron whole before she continues, "Please stop throwing dragons at your brother. It's rather rude."

"Vector's not my brother," says Mizael as he samples a pretzel cracker, making a face at its aftertaste.

"Wait, then what is he?"

"A grade-A jerkface."

Anna laughs so hard that she chokes on a piece of pineapple from the fruit skewer she's working on. While she's recovering, the tablecloth is lifted once again to reveal the very subject of their conversation.

"Kid, I saw that. They're gonna kick _me_ out too if they catch y..." Vector trails off as he recognizes Mizael's seating partner. "...What the hell why are _you_ here."

"That's none of your business." Anna flashes him a look of complete disgust.

"Your Pokemon badge is upside down." Smirking, Vector edges underneath the table to join them.

"Your _face_ is upside down," replies Anna scornfully as she picks up a miniature cupcake.

Whatever insult Vector is about to deliver in return is put on hold as soon as he catches sight of the minuscule dessert. "Holy shit, is that actual size?"

Anna proffers her plate in lieu of a response, a dry look gracing her features.

Vector looks horrified. "But it's so _tiny!"_ He gapes unabashedly at the food items, argument forgotten as he reaches for one of Anna's muffins. "Why would you _ever_ do this to food? More importantly, how the fuck did they even fit chocolate chips into this thing?"

"It's Tachyon-sized!" pipes up Mizael cheerfully.

Vector sighs and eats Anna's muffin. "Well, at least it's edible."

_He's actually enjoying himself, _Tachyon notes with some surprise.

_Huh?_ Mizael tunes back into the hum of thoughts surrounding them and catches the faintest hint of amusement from Vector's direction, which is startling because he usually only senses irritation or annoyance and it's gone after, like, two seconds. Before he can analyze this new development, though, the floor shakes violently underneath them and a sound like a mix of thunder and a huge bowl of Rice Krispies echoes around the ballroom.

Naturally, people start screaming. A spike of other people's terror slices violently through Mizael's mind, and he flinches in pain as he forces it back in hopes of hearing something useful. Images flood into his head, and Tachyon helps him sort them out: pieces of wall flying into the room, a hole, a bunch of shadows, a _dragon?_

"Something blew up," he starts.

"Wasn't my fault," whispers Vector, and Anna punches him.

Mizael ignores them. "...Tachyon says it was the bathroom. There's a bunch of creepy shadows attacking people-no, wait, making people disappear? And there's a dragon, it's sort of like Tachyon except not as awesome and it's really pissed off about something...what's a Psych?"

Vector and Anna use the same obscenity at the same time before staring at each other in horror and absconding from the buffet setup. Mizael snickers as he puts Tachyon into his hoodie and follows them.


End file.
